


When the Sky Falls Down

by classical_nightmare



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Bullying, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Grief, Loss, M/M, Punk Frank Iero, Romance, Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt, pianist gerard way
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-14 05:30:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9164248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/classical_nightmare/pseuds/classical_nightmare
Summary: Gerard was an aspiring and talented pianist until his grandmother's death destroyed that part of him.He's never played piano since.Enter Frank.The two meet at a youth counselling group Gerard's mother forced him to attend one Sunday afternoon and soon develop a friendship over mutual despair and understanding.Frank's been bullied and harassed for far too long and has trust issues.Gerard's been grieving and depressed for just over a year and has coping issues.They're both messed in their own ways.Frank wants to fix Gerard and Gerard wants the same for Frank.I'm shit at writing summaries but I can assure you this won't be as cliche as it sounds.





	

Water rushed past my ears, my eyes, my lips, my neck, my body. Before I'd realised I was now submerged head-deep, my entirety was now water-logged and with cold creeping under my skin.  
That was the intention. It was a distraction. I'd now been under for precisely 1 minute and 39 seconds and I intended to raise that number higher.  
I counted to five instead of inhaling mouthfuls of lukewarm bath water.

1\. I killed her.  
2\. If I died then I'd never have to think about it again.  
3\. I wasn't ready to die yet.  
4\. I wanted to live, I just didn't want to face the pain. I wanted to be able to control the pain.  
5\. I wasn't going to kill myself, she wouldn't want that.

I wanted to breathe, I just wasn't going to. I was surprised my shitty lungs had withheld this far, it was almost like a personal achievement.  
I really wasn't going to kill myself, this wasn't suicide. I wouldn't drown myself for one, drowning was one of the most painful ways to go and two, I'd much rather not die such an awkward uncomfortable death. I was a graceful person, I knew that and I had dignity even in such things as my own fucking death.  
Call me vain, call me strange, call me selfish, pathetic and hopeless. I already know all of those things.  
I just wanted to see how long I could last until my body was needing air. If whether or not I could push it, I knew I could.  
2 minutes 20 now and I boy, do I know I suck at not-breathing. I deserved this though. I deserved this pain and I'd take it with a challenge.  
I thought about that night, as much as I didn't want to. I shouldn't say thought, more so remembered. All I was directly thinking was air, breathe, wait no - I don't need to yet, I can do this. I can do this.

But I still saw it all again, right before my eyes and against my own wishes.  
The piano, the stage, the audience, Mikey and I waiting anxiously for her to arrive, mum fretting over her phone playing up and her mother, her, arriving in time. We were all waiting on her, they all knew how much I needed her as my confidence and how much I had fretted over this recital. I saw the lights dim and felt the fear swell up in my stomach, mum was getting pissed and so was I. Because she'd promised, she'd promised she'd be there and fear radiated through me. An announcer came out and said whatever it was, introducing my act with a harsh LED spotlight following their presence. My ears were ringing at that point but nevertheless the applause still was heard - all too loudly, right before my hesitant footsteps echoed hard against the hollow wood floor and I was placed before the keys more.

Then - there was nothing.

I'd always felt nothing when I played, I was empty of thought yet full of precision. I was lost in a void where I was untouchable. I was safe from the nerves that attacked me relentlessly before and after.  
But my void was smashing into a million pieces and I was torn out of the final note I'd played by hands and cries that drove right into my heart. Before I knew it the ground was right beneath me and the lights were back on. The audience seemed to hold their breath. It was like a single note my fingers had pressed, has caused the end of the world.

It did for me.

My mother was there crying, shaking, pure terror glazing her eyes. Someone was moving us off stage and confusion and fear numbed me more than anything and I couldn't breathe. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't breathe. Something was wrong, really, really wrong and then conclusions were drawn.  
My gut knew it before my mum choked it out.  
She was dead. Grandma had died on the way here, two hours prior. She'd had a head-on collision with a power pole due to attempting get here on time by speeding and her poor eyesight quite possibly playing a factor, or so I assumed the latter anyway. She had died within minutes upon impact.  
A part of me died right there too and I couldn't breathe. I never got to say 'goodbye, I love you.'  
She was dead.  
My piano had killed her. My music had killed her. I had killed her.  
It was me and my fucking recital's fault.

And I seriously couldn't breathe right now. I'd been under now for God knows how long now, I'd lost count and to be honest, I didn't care. Time was just a number, feelings and the moment itself were never a human concept. Time was, however, and I knew it would only be moments before my lungs gave out beneath me. I needed to breath more than anything right then and it had all worked how I intended. It was working because there always was method to my madness, even if it never made sense to anyone else it made sense to myself.

Right then, all I was feeling was the need to breathe, the desperation to continue life and the pain within my lungs.  
Emotions were gone. The memories were gone and I was safe in a sense.  
But I really did need to breathe again, my lungs and throat constricting with the desperation for air. Water had filled my mouth involuntarily, tasting of sweat and cheap soap. At that moment, I surrendered.  
My head broke through the water and all I could do was cough and splutter out dirty bath water. My throat coarse and rough, a burning within my chest, constant and demanding.  
I gasped for air, each gulp a relief.  
This had lasted longer than I'd expected.

I was numb and weak and a fucking looser. That was all I was left to think as I sat in the cold water, waterlogged and caught up in my own self-loathing.knowing I'd have to get out of the bath before Mikey started bashing on the door.

 


End file.
